Chapter 3 - Through the Ashes"If we can't have the payout, Mother," Julián’s voice came from the hall, muffled and slurred through his pain, "then nobody gets the evidence. The house is two hundred years old. The fire department won't reach this mountain for forty minutes."
A sharp spark echoed outside.
FZZZZT.
A wall of yellow and orange flame erupted instantly along the bottom of the double doors. The dry mahogany wood caught fire with terrifying speed, black smoke curling upward toward the high ornate ceiling.
Elena gasped, covering her face with her sleeve. The heat hit her like a physical blow. The flames crept across the velvet rug, climbing the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, igniting rows of ancient, dry volumes.
"Copy faster..." Elena prayed, staring at the computer screen.
TRANSFERRING... 88%... 94%... COMPLETE.
The monitor flashed green. Elena yanked the portable hard drive from the USB slot, shoving it deep into her internal coat pocket along with the original server drive.
The fire had already severed the main power lines. The room plunged into darkness, illuminated only by the roaring inferno at the door. Black, toxic smoke filled the upper half of the library, making it impossible to breathe.
Elena dropped to her knees, crawling along the cold stone floor behind the main desk. She knew every inch of the Las Lomas estate; she had lived here for fifty years. Behind the large oil painting of her late husband on the north wall lay an old service hatch—a narrow coal chute used in the nineteen century to haul fuel from the basement.
She crawled to the painting, her eyes streaming with tears from the heavy smoke. She reached up, felt for the hidden brass latch behind the carved wooden frame, and pulled with all her strength.
The heavy painting swung open like a door, revealing a dark, dusty square opening barely two feet wide.
Behind her, the main library doors collapsed inward with a thunderous roar, sending a shower of burning embers into the room. Through the wall of fire, she could see Julián holding a flashlight, his face half-covered in bandages, searching the flames for her body.
"Find her!" Victoria screamed from behind him. "Make sure she’s inside!"
Elena didn't look back. She pushed the steel hard drive ahead of her and wiggled her torso into the narrow coal chute.
The chute was slick with old soot and steep. The moment her knees cleared the ledge, gravity took hold. She slid downward through total darkness, skinning her elbows and knees against the rough brickwork, before plunging out of the opening and landing heavily onto a pile of dry pine logs in the basement.
She lay there for a moment, winded and bruised, her heart hammering in her chest.
Above her, the floorboards groaned as the fire spread rapidly through the upper story. Dust and ash filtered down through the cracks in the ceiling.
She sat up, checking her coat pocket. The two hard drives were still secure.
The basement was cool, quiet, and dark, smelling of wet earth and stored wine. At the far end of the cellar was a heavy iron door that led to the estate’s drainage tunnels—a network of underground culverts designed to carry rainwater off the mountain during heavy storms.
Elena pushed herself up, using a wooden crate for support. Her legs felt weak, her vision still swimming from the poisoned tea, but the knowledge that Camila was waiting under the garden bench kept her moving.
She reached the iron cellar door, pulled back the rusted bolt, and stepped out into the pouring rain.
The night air was freezing, washing the soot from her face and filling her lungs with clean, cold oxygen. Above her, the eastern wing of the mansion was engulfed in a massive column of fire, orange flames shooting high into the dark, stormy sky.
Elena skirted the edge of the stone foundation, keeping low in the shadows of the overgrown rhododendron bushes. The rain pounded against her face as she moved toward the kitchen garden.
"Camila..." she called out in a low, fierce whisper, crouched behind a stone pillar. "Camila, it’s Grandma."
A small, wet bundle shifted beneath the low wooden potting bench near the greenhouse.
Camila crawled out into the mud, her small face covered in dirt, her eyes wide with terror as she looked up at the burning mansion.
"Grandma!" she cried, throwing her tiny arms around Elena’s neck. "The house is on fire!"
"It doesn't matter, my love," Elena whispered, kissing the girl’s wet forehead and wrapping her coat securely around both of them. "The house is just wood and stone. We are going to finish this."
Suddenly, the blinding glare of two high-beam headlights cut through the rain from the main driveway.
A large black SUV roared up the gravel path, tearing across the manicured lawn and screeching to a halt right beside the greenhouse.
The driver’s door opened.
A tall man in a long dark trench coat stepped out, holding a large black umbrella. Behind him, two muscular men in tactical gear exited the vehicle, their hands resting on concealed shoulder holsters.
It wasn't the police.
Elena recognized the man instantly from the news. It was Dr. Gabriel Vance—a disgraced former neurosurgeon turned private medical director for elite, offshore wellness syndicates. The man who had signed Camila’s fake death certificate.
"Julián!" Vance’s voice carried clearly over the sound of the rain and the roaring fire. "You idiot! What have you done to the property?!"
Julián came stumbling out of the side kitchen entrance, his face burned, his arm hanging limp. Victoria followed close behind him, clutching a leather bag filled with cash and passports.
"Vance!" Julián gasped, falling against the hood of the SUV. "The old woman got out! She stole the backup server drive! She knows everything!"
Dr. Vance’s face darkened into an expression of absolute, terrifying calm. He reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek silver pistol fitted with a heavy suppressor.
"You promised me a clean transaction, Julián," Vance said softly, his tone devoid of any human emotion. "You promised me the girl, the medical stream, and total discretion. Instead, you burned down your estate and compromised my entire network."
"We can still find them!" Victoria pleaded, holding up the leather bag. "The girl is still on the grounds! We just need your men to sweep the forest!"
Dr. Vance looked at Victoria, then at Julián, with supreme disdain.
May you like
"My network does not leave loose ends," Vance said quietly.
He raised the weapon and pulled the trigger twice.
